


Every Version of You

by 4vrAFangirl



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4vrAFangirl/pseuds/4vrAFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Reincarnation AU) Some things, perhaps even some of the most precious things, defy explanation; at times even the very laws of nature herself. Harry Hart might have known "Eggsy" Unwin would be such a force to be reckoned with if only he had been paying attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [afangirlreadsfics](http://www.afangirlreadsfics.tumblr.com)
> 
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
> "People talk about premonition as if it's something strange. It's not. It's just remembering in the wrong direction." -Doctor Who, S9x5 "The Girl Who Died" 
> 
> "I feel like part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything, maybe we're from the same star." -Emery Allen

Some things, perhaps even some of the most precious things, defy explanation; at times even the very laws of nature herself. Harry Hart might have known Eggsy Unwin would be such a force to be reckoned with if only he had been paying attention, but it wasn't until they met a second time, until he began to realize just how gone he was for the young man, that things began to fall into place.

There was simply something about the boy... In retrospect it has always been there. That almost niggling sense of rightness, of possessiveness, of- _familiarity_. Something that was too peculiar when it was directed at a child just shy of eight to be thought of or explored any further, but present all the same, and certainly no less persistent years later for all that waiting.

Seeing and talking to Eggsy again felt like just about every embarrassing and tried cliché that Harry's mind could conjure up. Safe.. Home.. But above all, _his_. And just as sure, Harry was every bit as much (and delightedly so) Eggsy's. Gary "Eggsy" Unwin was at once a dream, and his entirely unavoidable future rolled into one. He'd never truly considered the possibility of a soulmate before, even a lover with a career where he regularly courted death herself seemed indulgent, and more than a bit selfish. But bless his beautiful, wonderful boy, Eggsy wouldn't hear of Harry being anything but selfish where he was concerned, just as he inexplicably was with the older man.

They would have all the time in the world, once Eggsy is done with training. Once they are both agents. Of course there would be missions, one couldn't expect them all to coincide neatly with one another's to provide them the same downtime all the time, or that even most of their missions might be shared. But Harry has every intention of asking Eggsy to move in with him once he's not obliged to live in the Kingsman barracks anymore, of stealing and savoring every minute they might have together, and he's no reason to believe the young man won't accept. In the meantime all they have are these stolen moments, not always ( _or even often_ ) alone together. Moments where their eyes might meet and linger for only the briefest of moments, where their fingers brush one another's while passing a file or tablet between them. Although Harry is careful not to allow too many of them to happen while he's wearing his glasses, or he may never hear the end of it from Merlin. He's passed caring what Arthur might think.

It's nothing at all, but somehow it feels like everything. So when they do get a moment when they are actually alone, when Harry can be sure that nobody is watching them, he can't help but to give in to being selfish, can't resist pulling the smaller but still solid frame into his arms, and holding Eggsy, plunging down for kisses that taste all at once tender and hungry, desperate and determined; kisses that are every bit as much promises as anything else. _Promises that he loves this boy, more than he has loved anyone or anything in all his life, that he will care for and cherish him, and wait for him as long as he must._

But their time never comes. 

Eggsy fails his final test, as some small part of Harry had always known that he would. _Eggsy, his Eggsy, the boy he loves, would never hurt someone who didn't deserve it, who couldn't defend themselves._ But Harry is disappointed all the same; sees yet another obstacle in their way, and more waiting, and in that moment of disappointment he is impatient, bitter and angry, and Eggsy responds in kind.

He knows when Valentine raises the gun, before the other man even begins speaking that this is his end. He keeps up a good face, witty retorts all the same because fuck Richmond if he thinks he's going to get to see him scared or begging for his life. His only regret, of course, is Eggsy.

Eggsy, who no matter how ugly they may have parted will still be waiting for him to come back and sort out their mess like he promised they would. Who's still waiting for more kisses, more promises that Harry won't be able to give him or to keep. Who's more than clever enough to have figured out how to tap into his glasses feed at his home terminal. _And oh god, all those people. Eggsy will have seen Harry kill them all._

Harry tries to tell himself this is better, because how could anyone forget and forgive seeing something that ghastly? And yet he knows that his boy could, would do so for him, just as he would if it had been Eggsy in his place instead. A stupid argument about Eggsy's inability to shoot a dog wouldn't have been the end of them, he's sure. And it certainly wouldn't be the last words they have between them, not if this hadn't been his final moments.

Harry would give anything to have it all to do over again. To have the chance to make it right. To sort out the mess, and make good on all the promises in those kisses, just to hold Eggsy again.

 _Bargaining_ , he thinks. Harry supposes, knowing you have only minutes to live would put a bit of a rush on going through the various stages of grief. He's pretty sure there are five, although he can't remember them all immediately enough to concern himself with them. He doesn't want to waste his last thoughts on it. He would bargain though. With anyone who has the power to give him what he so desperately wishes for: one more day, one more chance to be with Eggsy.

 _Maybe_ , he thinks, _they will have better timing the next time around._ There isn't time to think about just what that means of course before Valentine's bullet is delivering the last word.


	2. The "Great War"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want a peek behind the scenes of writing these stories? Got a prompt or idea for a fic you'd like to see? Drop me a note on my Tumblr: [afangirlreadsfics](http://www.afangirlreadsfics.tumblr.com)
> 
> . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
> 
> "Death is nothing at all.  
> It does not count.  
> I have only slipped away into the next room.  
> Nothing has happened." -" _Death is Nothing at All_ , Henry Scott-Holland

"You cannot go," the older man orders, even as he knows any such declarations are too late, and won't yield any results.

"And yeh cannot stop me," the younger man replies shaking his head, before pointedly avoiding Harry's gaze.

"Dammit Gary, are you really so eager to be rid of me you want to court death himself by shipping off to the front?"

"You know that isn't why," he replies, voice cracking a little, overwhelmed by the emotion that fills it.

"You'll die over there," Harry whispers softly, as if somehow speaking the words in hushed tones might be less of a jinx on the young man's life, might escape the reaper's notice.

"I'm dying here Harry," the younger man replies simply, green eyes sliding up to meet brown once more, full to the point of nearly overflowing with unshed tears. "Every day that I have to see you and know we can't ever- " the sentence hangs unfinished in the air between them, but they both know well enough where it was headed. Harry is too high-born, his family too wealthy and well-to-do, and he too lowly and poor to be afforded much time spent with one another, and though both have made it clear to one another this thing between them is neither one-sided, or platonic, it's too great a risk if they should be caught to try to make something of it. 

"But you're just one life," Harry protests shaking his head. "One more body," he continues, a small stutter in his hand as it longs to reach out and touch, before he is able to get ahold of himself once more. Because if Gary goes to the front, they both know that's what will eventually happen, that sooner or later a body is all that will be left of him, if they are so lucky. "You can't change the course of anything alone. -They won't even tell me if something happens to you."

"But you'll know," Gary replies with a small rueful smile that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "We always have," he nods matter-a-factly. Even before they finally understood what it was they felt for- and meant to one another, each had had an acute awareness of the other, impossible foreknowledge and sympathetic pains when the other was hurt.

"I could take care of your mother and sister, now," Harry tries desperately, because he doesn't need to throw his life away for a measly pension. Harry has more money than he could ever spend or know what to do with, _and doesn't this boy know he is worth so much more than the army will ever pay for him?_ But Gary just shakes his head. 

"I know you will. But not yet. You can't. Not without rousing curiosity and suspicion about why you're doing it. I'm just a servant, a man of your household."

"You were never just that," the older man counters, bringing a small pained smile to to corner of the boy's mouth. "Not to me."

"Please," Harry tries again, not bothering to hide the emotion or desperation that he feels at the thought that the only way he can help Gary's family is after the boy is gone. "Please, don't leave me." It's pathetic, selfish, but it's all he can think about- how empty his life will seem without that smiling face, that beautiful laugh, and everything he has come to love about Gary Unwin.

"Never," the younger man swears, looking around very carefully to ensure the trees and breeze about them are their only witnesses before allowing his hand to slowly close around Harry's nearest one, thumb peeking back and dipping beneath the layers of wool, silk, and cotton to caress his wrist just where the other man's proof of life pulses. It's the most intimate touch they've ever been able- ever dared- to share, and it's over an instant later; but Harry already knows how much he will cling to- and regret this moment for making his loss, his grieving so much harder later. "I'll never leave you," he promises, and Harry doesn't understand, wants to protest because that's exactly what he's doing, isn't it?

"I'm coming back to you. I'm coming back _for_ you Harry Hart," Gary whispers as he stoops a little to pick up his suitcase in preparation for the carriage they can now hear approaching from a distance.

"How can you possibly know, or even _attempt_ to promise me such a thing," the older man asks, fighting desperately to hold on to anger rather than hurt. Gary will know of course, that this isn't truly anger-just his heart breaking, Gary always knows.

In the days, the weeks, even the months that follow... in the years that Harry watches over little Daisy Unwin, and sends a generous allowance to Michelle after the loss of her eldest, Harry never does figure out just what Gary might have meant when he tells him, " _Because somehow it feels like I already have._ "

" _Maybe next time_ ," Gary had written in a letter to him that doesn't arrive until a few weeks after Michelle's telegram that had shattered both her world and his, " _our timing will be better._ "


End file.
